Primus

Off and on for 29 years, Primus have been rollicking about the land with the sound of their three-piece, psycho-funk, Nor-Cal frizzle-fry. Singer, storyteller, and slap-bass progenitor Les Claypool is an alchemical king. He's their heart and oil-soaked soul. To think of Primus is to think of Claypool's weird, impossible playing, and his chicken-leg strut across the stage in long johns. He pulls off ultra-fingered metrics on the fret, singing with a quirked-up, redneck joie de vivre. In 1991, Primus had a major-label breakthrough with album Sailing the Seas of Cheese, and the song "Jerry Was a Race Car Driver" became a worldwide spittoon-anthem. It wasn't a feel-good hit, it was a feel-strange, somewhat-inbred-genius, Deliverance-type hit. Like someone huffin' spray paint in the shed and seein' how many tadpoles they can eat 'cause they ain't got nuthin' better to do. Claypool is every bit the genius, sans the pig squealing and tadpoles. He spoke from Denver, and for someone who's released albums entitled Pork Soda and Green Naugahyde, he sounded like an upper-level calculus professor who ingests quarks and equations, not tadpoles.

Your new tour is a 3-D tour. What does Primus 3-D entail?

Everyone in the crowd gets a pair of goggles. There's a big screen behind us onstage—when we start playing, a bunch of crazy shit comes flying out over our heads and into the audience.

Where do your visuals come from?

We've been assembling visuals since the early '90s. We incorporate a lot of our own footage, and each song has its own set of images, which get treated with three-dimensional effects. It's not like going to see Prometheus or Avatar, it's like a Liquid Lunch show in 3-D. It's not something you're gonna see in an IMAX theater.

There's a laser dome in Seattle that does amazing shows. You know, Laser Floyd, Laser Metallica, Laser Green Day. You lay down on the ground to watch. I'm pretty sure there's a Laser Primus. Have you ever seen the Laser Primus?

I haven't had a chance to check out a Laser Primus yet. It's on my list of things to do. It makes sense people would lay down to watch. Our stuff is pretty textural, so I could see how it would lend itself to some eye candy.

How the hell does Green Day have a Laser Green Day? I understand the Pink Floyd one, and Zeppelin. But Green Day? You gotta be fucking kidding me. That Billy Joe dude doesn't translate well to the laser realm.

An interesting point. Someone may be kidding you, but it is not me. Investigate further and get back to me with a full report of your findings. You can break it down to me with an informative luncheon.

Your bass playing is so unique. You've formulated and pioneered your own sound. Besides your physical ability and mastery of short muscle control, what does your sound pull from? Apart from Jaco Pastorius.

As a young fellow back in the old days, I watched all the guys that could wiggle their fingers fast and tried to emulate some of them. But once you get the fundamentals down, you kinda move beyond that. It's like learning to use a pencil or a crayon, you know? You start doodling on a piece of paper with that crayon, and shapes begin to pop out. And that's the way the bass is for me. My sound just happens to be the crayon I picked out of the box. Once I got to where my fingers would do what my head wanted them to do, it was like having a conversation. I like it to be as casual as possible. I like to have good musical conversations with other fellows and fellowistas [laughs] who have similar inclinations.

I'm upping the Laser Primus to scratch 'n' sniff now—you need your own scratch 'n' sniff book.

I believe I could get into some laser scratch 'n' sniff. Isn't that what they're doing with particle acceleration at the Large Hadron Collider?

No, the Hadron Collider is more a Laser Tool kind of thing. Like a light-speed Chia Pet. Moving on to Buckethead. How's Buckethead? Your album with him was a feat. Any new Claypool-Bucket collabos on the horizon?

I haven't seen Bucket in a while; I don't know what he's up to. Maybe at some point, we'll reconvene. I'm sure there's live stuff of us on YouTube. It's out there to be had.

Your music always has had a swampy feel to me. Specifically, swamp creatures such as the alligator, possum, raccoon, and/or platypus. Have you spent lots of time in the swamps of the Georgia-Florida border?

No, I haven't spent too much time in the Southern swampland. What I draw from is Northern California, semirural, blue-collar suburbia. I come from a long line of auto mechanics. We'd either be working on some crappy Pete Reynolds property on the weekends or be out fishing and chasing salmon and sturgeon around in the bay. I tend to like to be outside, on or near a body of water. Most of my friends are contractors, fishermen, and blue-collar people.

But what about my whole Primus-swamp-creature vision?

I'm enhancing your vision [laughs].

Okay, but if you had to make up a swamp story, right now, what would it be? And make it include a possum.

Why would I make up a swamp story when I have plenty of stories about mucking around in the delta, the ocean, and San Pablo Bay near San Francisco? Tromping around through the wine country. I go with what I know, otherwise I'm a poseur. And I don't wanna be a poseur.

Your lyrics come from a character's perspective. You put the listener inside a character's head, seeing from their lens. How do you choose the characters you're going to write from?

I do tend to impart my social commentary through characters. I'm not the type of guy who gets up there and says, "Rally round the family with a pocket full of shells." I appreciate that, but it's just not my style. I grew up watching Elia Kazan films and the Coen brothers' films. I'm a fan of writers and directors that develop characters in their pieces. Plus, I was never really comfortable, especially early on, with being the singer of the band. I always considered myself to be the narrator. It was easier for me to go onstage and do "John the Fisherman" or "Jerry Was a Race Car Driver" as a character than it was to get up there and sing, and hit the notes.

I think that perspective gives your music a literary shadow. What are you reading now?

I'm right in the middle of a book about Belgium-born jazz guitarist and composer Django Reinhardt. Where I am in the book, it's during World War II. He's acquired fame, and as a European gypsy, he's trying to maintain his stature without being thrown into a concentration camp.

Let's touch quickly on the story aspect of your song "Wynona's Big Brown Beaver." How many millions of stupid questions have you had about it?

There have been a few, indeed. Some people thought it was Winona Ryder. But it's not spelled or pronounced that way. I was out fly-fishing in Northern California. The sun was going down. It was dusk. I was walking back to the car through these reeds, and there was this big furry animal. It all happened in an instant. I was going toward it, and it was going toward me. We both spooked each other. It spun and popped its tail with this loud noise. It scared the shit outta me. It was a giant brown beaver. And I got that stuck in my head—big brown beaver, big brown beaver. Then it became Wynona's got herself a big brown beaver. The words just kind of flowed. Obviously there was a double entendre to play off there, and I created this silly little song. I never ever thought it was going to be the single from the record.

Change that beaver to a possum and you have a swamp story. "Wynona's Big Brown Possum" doesn't have the same ring, though. Who have been your favorite people you've played music with?

That's hard. I've been lucky enough to play with so many great people. Stewart Copeland, Adrian Belew, Bernie Worrell, Warren Haynes, the Rush guys. I recently played with Booker T. Jones and Charlie Musselwhite for an Obama dinner event. It was sweet. I always love playing with Skerik, from your neck of the woods.

Skerik is a lord. What about getting him to play with Primus at Sasquatch!? How do we make that happen?

If Skerik is around, I'll pull him up onstage.

Your project Oysterhead—with Stewart Copeland from the Police and Trey Anastasio from Phish—is a super-nutritional, three-headed value pack. Phish fans are such an excellent breed. What's your take on what's going on there?

It's been a little while since we've done any Oysterhead. For me, one of my favorite things about it was the companionship element—Stewart and I have become good friends over the years, and I don't see Trey nearly as much, but we do have a good rapport whenever we get together or talk on the phone. They're great, intelligent, talented guys. So it's a win-win-win, you know?

Will there be any new Primus in the future?

We just got finished doing an HD and 5.1 remix and remaster of Sailing the Seas of Cheese for its 21st anniversary. It comes out in two or three weeks. I was more involved than I wanted to be [laughs]. The original session notes and automation discs were lost, so we had to start from scratch, and we did the whole thing at my studio over the span of a few months. I used all this old, vintage gear, and I thought it came out amazingly well.

Guitarist Larry ‘Ler’ LaLonde and bassist Les Claypool talk about the herculean task of performing a classic Rush album in its entirety

For First Coast News, May 2022

JACKSONVILLE, Fla. — The genius, quark-rock trio Primus will be at the St. Augustine Amphitheatre on May 7th, performing Rush’s 1977 album “A Farewell to Kings” after a set of their own songs. Special guests Battles will open.

For Primus, this “A Tribute to Kings” tour is about paying homage to their heroes - the legendary Hall-of-Fame-inducted band Rush. 

No one in their right mind would try to perform a Rush album in its entirety. Rush songs are impossibly difficult, combining the absolute highest levels of musicianship, proficiency, and acrobatic mathematics. It’s a herculean musical undertaking, and Primus are up to the challenge.

LaLonde and Claypool spoke in separate interviews:

Are you sick of answering Rush questions yet?

LaLonde: You would think so. But it seems to be something I could talk about forever. Famous last words.

Good, because I have one hundred and seventy-eight Rush questions. Number one, how is your Eric Lifeson, Rush style guitar playing?

I'm gonna give myself an eleven. [Laughs] No. Just kidding. I grew up learning from listening to Alex play. So, nothing will ever be as good as him. He's the best.

How is Les's Geddy Lee approximation? Doing what Geddy Lee does is an impossible musical feat. It's gotta be tough to do, even for Les. 

It's pretty dang good. I don't know how the heck he does it. When we first started mapping it all out I was like, man, that's a tall order. Just trying to sing like Geddy is hard enough. But to sing and play the bass parts? I don't know how he does it.

Les being able to dial in premium levels of Geddy-ness does not surprise me. I bet Mozart would not have been able to do that.

Yes. There is much premium Geddy-ness with Les. [Laughs] He pulls it off. I mean, I don't think anybody could get Geddy one hundred percent right. To do the voice, and hit those high-high notes, playing bass at the same time the way he does. Geddy is one of a kind. No disrespect to Mozart.

Have you guys had any contact with Geddy or Alex about the tour? Are they aware you're doing it?

Les has spoken to Geddy a little bit. And I've emailed back and forth with Alex. As far as playing his parts, some of these chords, they aren't normal chords. So it's been great to be able to ask him, "Dude, what is this chord?”

Alex is one of the coolest people ever. We toured with Rush at one point, and got to know them a little then. They were the nicest guys. Stellar gentlemen. They definitely figured out - if you're gonna be in a touring rock band, you should make it fun.

The Rush song "Closer to the Heart" is one of the greatest, most killer songs of all time. Do you emit mountains of joy when you play it live?

I do. And I agree. I've always loved that song. When I'm playing it, it's sort of an out of body experience. It's kind of weird and amazing to be playing it, and hearing it at the same time.

The little intro guitar thing is tricky. I had to train my fingers to play it. It's one of the ones I asked Alex about. I told him, "You're the only guitar player who could have written something this crazy." Because it's not a natural thing for your fingers. You have to hold the chords a certain way. Holding your fingers where the strings ring, then playing the little melody in between. It's very unique. I didn't realize it was so intricate.

When he responded, Alex said, "Oh yeah, that part is super hard. I had to train my fingers to do it too, because Geddy wrote that part."

Speaking of masters and maestros, is your drummer Herb having Neil Peart nightmares? Neil Peart, RIP, one of the best drummers the planet has seen.

Agreed. I don't know how Tim does it either. [Laughs] I've always assumed Tim is just a robot or something.

The song "Xanadu" has so many parts and movements. Playing that one must be like having to recite Homer’s “Odyssey.” It's like a multi-level, multi-dimensional chess game against Phaunos, the Greek god of the forest.

Many sequences, yes. So much stuff going on. At first it was a little difficult to wrap my brain around all of it. It really takes focus, and can be taxing. But it's fun. The good thing is that I've played in Frank Zappa bands, so I know what multi-dimensional chess is like. [Laughs]

Have there been any moments where you guys are like, "Why did we do this to ourselves?” You might as well be taking a calculus exam while juggling knives while walking on a tightrope every night.

There have been a couple of times I've thought, man, maybe we should have done AC/DC’s “Back in Black.”

So why “A Farwell to Kings”?

When we hatched this idea of doing a tour where we were playing someone's album, we were initially thinking of doing Rush's “Hemispheres.” We had this joke when people would ask us what we were going to do on our next tour - and we would tell them we were going to play all of “Hemispheres.” Because it's more obscure. And it seemed like the type thing no one would do.

As we dug into it, weighing album choices, we started thinking more about “A Farewell to Kings.” It's one of Les's favorite Rush albums. And the song "Cygnus X-1" is his favorite Rush song, and we'd all played versions of that before.

Hope you’re staying hydrated.

I know. That’s important. I’ll try.

Les, how would you say your Primus lyrics compare to Rush lyrics?

Claypool: That I do not know.

Primus lyrics seem to come from a character's perspective. How do you choose the characters you're going to write from?

I do tend to impart my social commentary through characters. I'm not the type of guy who gets up there and says, "Rally round the family with a pocket full of shells." I appreciate that, but it's not my style. I grew up watching Elia Kazan films and the Coen brothers films. I'm a fan of writers and directors that develop characters in their pieces. I was never really comfortable, especially early on, with being the singer of the band. I always considered myself to be the narrator. It was easier for me to go onstage and do "John the Fisherman" or "Jerry Was a Race Car Driver" as a character than it was to get up there and sing, and hit the notes.

Your bass playing is so signature and unique. Like Geddy Lee from Rush. You've formulated your own sound. Is there anything in particular you’ve done over the years to arrive at your own sound? Apart from juggling knives, calculus, and tightrope walking.

As a young fellow back in the old days, I watched all the guys that could wiggle their fingers fast and tried to emulate some of them. But once you get the fundamentals down, you kinda move beyond that. It's like learning to use a pencil or a crayon, you know? You start doodling on a piece of paper with that crayon, and shapes begin to pop out. And that's the way the bass is for me. My sound just happens to be the crayon I picked out of the box. Once I got to where my fingers would do what my head wanted them to do, it was like having a conversation. I like it to be as casual as possible. I like to have good musical conversations with other fellows and fellowistas [laughs] who have similar inclinations.